


We Cope

by Croik



Category: Rusty Lake | Cube Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Character death is a canon death, Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: Checkmate. And then Rose walked in.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	We Cope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/gifts).



His hands were still around Albert’s neck when Rose walked in.

The sight of her shocked Frank out of his haze. He hadn’t meant for it to happen like this--he wanted to tell her so. Death, even a violent death, was exactly what Albert Vanderboom deserved; he had certainly inflicted worse on many others throughout his deplorable life. Frank had planned to give the man his due for years. But he had never intended for it to be the sudden brutality that justice had manifested as, and he absolutely had never wanted Rose, of all people, to have to witness her father’s murder first hand.

He wanted to tell her so, but his white knuckles were locked into place, his breath trapped in aching lungs.

Rose calmly took in the scene. One might have expected a young woman to betray some look of shock or horror upon walking in on her father’s muder, but not her. She entered the room, the swish of her long, black skirt and the quiet clap of her boots the only sounds. Her hands fell over his to gently loosen them from Albert’s throat. “Frank.” Though she spoke softly, it startled him enough that he finally let go. “It’s all right,” she said. “Take a breath--it’s over.”

Frank did so. He allowed Rose to ease him away from the body and took in a huge, gulping breath, realizing only then how long he had gone without. His vision swam and he had to brace his palm against the table to keep his balance. Rose remained close, her hand a steady comfort against his back as he gradually regained his composure. At last he had his breath and wits back enough to face her. “Rose, I—”

“Hush.” She took his hand and gave it a tug. “Come with me.”

He could never have denied her anything. For Rose’s sake, even Frank’s trembling knees found the strength to have him follow her out of the room. Out in the hall, they soon encountered Leonard, who was making his way up the stairs.

“Is anything the matter?” he asked. “I thought I heard…” He trailed off at the sight of them; Frank could only imagine that he looked ghastly. After a moment’s confusion Leonard cleared his throat and instead asked, “Do you need me?”

“Yes,” said Rose, and he obediently came forward. “Please, take Frank downstairs and maybe find him a tonic? He needs to settle his nerves.”

“Of course.” Leonard reached the top of the stairs, and as soon as Frank was near enough, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. With so few words he seemed to fully understand the circumstances, and he supported Frank down the stairs. “Come on, cousin; I have just the thing.”

“Thank you,” said Frank, even as he craned his head back to watch Rose. She had already turned back toward the room and was rolling up her sleeves.

Downstairs, Leonard brought Frank into the kitchen and found a stool for him. “Catch your breath, Frank,” he said, keeping his manners light. He opened one of the cabinets to fetch a bottle of spirits and a glass. “A few sips of this will make you right. I swear by the stuff, you know I do.”

“I’ve killed Albert,” said Frank.

Leonard paused, but only for a moment. He grabbed another glass and filled each half way. “Well,” he said, but then he didn’t seem to know what came next. He returned to Frank’s side and offered him one of the drinks, which he managed to accept without shaking too badly.

“Cheers to that,” said Leonard, and he sucked his drink down on one breath.

Frank took his time. He swirled the clear liquid around and around in the glass, its heavy odor reminding him too well of Albert’s basement laboratory. Though he understood well enough that Leonard wasn’t a fan of imbibing simply for the pleasure of it, he doubted he would ever truly understand the appeal himself. Even so, if ever there was a time for drinking, it was then; he tried to gulp it down as Leonard had, only to wind up coughing and wincing.

“That’s the spirit.” Leonard took the glass from him before he could drop it. “Good, isn’t it? I swear by it.”

It burned. Frank’s stomach churned with the unfamiliar sensation, but hearing Leonard talk normally calmed his nerves somewhat and made it worth it. “Thank you,” he croaked. 

“You’re welcome to it any time, of course,” Leonard prattled on as he carried the glasses to the sink. “As long as there’s still some of it left, of course. I bartered it off old Lukas in town--might as well make the most of it.”

Frank watched him busy himself at the sink. Speaking openly, confronting unpleasant truths was not necessarily the way of their family, but he found himself talking anyway. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?” Leonard rejoined, as if he had truly already forgotten his cousin’s unprovoked confession. When he glanced back, however, discomfort twisted his features, and his tone grew serious once more. “Ask you what, Frank? ‘Are you all right?’ ‘Do you feel better now?’”

“I don’t know the answer to either of those," Frank answered honestly.

“Me, neither.” Leonard glanced back to the bottle as if already eager for another drink, but then he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Frank blinked at him in confusion. “What? Why?”

“It shouldn’t have had to be you.” Leonard rubbed his mustache as he crossed back to Frank’s side. It took him a moment to work the rest of his thoughts out, but Frank waited for him; he empathized very well with how difficult it was sometimes to put impulse into words. “I know you had every reason, but it _should_ have been me.”

Frank continued to stare at him, not quite comprehending. But he hated seeing Leonard distraught, even if he also didn’t know how he might best alleviate whatever haunted him. “Then...I’m sorry I took that from you,” he offered helplessly.

That wasn’t it; Leonard grimaced and rubbed his eyes. “No, I mean… God, you must think me a coward.” He gestured toward himself with sudden passion. “ _I’m_ the soldier. I was _supposed_ to come back strong enough to face him, and yet you…” Shame drew his features tight. “You’ve suffered more than anyone--this burden should never have fallen to you.”

“Leonard,” Frank said, “you lost a leg.”

It was Leonard’s turn to stare back in befuddlement. His guilt and grief collided against Frank’s bluntly delivered retort, and he made a quiet, strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I did,” he conceded, shaking his head. “I did, but not because of…” He sighed, and then he _did_ laugh, at the absurdity of it all. “Oh, Frank. Are you all right?”

Frank still wasn’t entirely sure either way. He stared down at his hands, so recently the source of terrible violence, and yet they felt so unsteady and weak. Even up until the moment the life had left Albert’s eyes, he hadn’t believed they would be up to the task. But they had done it-- _he_ had done it. Sometime soon he might know how to feel, but for the moment…

“It’s Rose I’m worried about,” he murmured. “I didn’t want her to see that.” He laced his fingers together and gripped himself tightly. “Whatever he was to us, he was still her father.”

They heard a heavy thump from upstairs, and both men looked up. A moment of silence followed, then footsteps, then the sound of running water. 

Leonard sighed fondly. “I don’t think we have to worry about Rose.”

Rose herself descended a few minutes later. Not one fiery red strand of hair was out of place, and her face was as calm and impassive as ever. She was still drying her hands off on her skirt as she approached them in the kitchen. “I’ll need both your help getting the body outside,” she said, as if she were talking about a bulky dresser and not her father’s corpse. “We’ll bury him with the rest of the family, of course. Albert was a very private man--I doubt very much that anyone in town will even notice, as long as one of us continues to make an appearance from time to time.”

“You’re right,” said Leonard, nodding along. “It’s been a long time since anyone expressed an interest in this house.”

“Rose, I…” Frank began, but he hesitated when Rose actually looked at him. Her dark eyes were completely lacking in grief--had she known her father’s fate all along? Or was she just the best of them when it came to not expressing sentiment? Whatever the case, he was determined to get his words out. “I’m so sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Rose considered that for a moment, and then she reached out. Frank held very still as she smoothed his long, straggly hair away from his face. “You should let me cut your hair for you soon,” she said, tucking a strand behind his ear. Then she looked to Leonard. “Is there still some of that drink?”

“Coming right up,” said Leonard, and he returned to the cupboard for the bottle. Frank offered up his empty glass for the task and Rose accepted; she drank down her portion with greater ease than even either of them. Only a flutter of her eyelashes and a hint of color in her cheeks indicated she had tasted it at all.

“Take whatever time you need, and then let’s get to work,” she said. “I’ll start digging.”

She swept from the house, her skit swishing behind her. Her last remaining family watched her leave, as always quietly in awe of her stoic fortitude. They exchanged a long look.

“She’s going to be fine,” Leonard said, and he offered Frank his hand. “I think...we all will be.”

Frank took his hand to help boost himself onto his feet. “Yes,” he said, allowing those words deep under his skin. “You’re right. I think we will be.”

They each took one last drink and then carried on.


End file.
